


The dog dies at the end

by aPaperCupCut



Category: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - Harlan Ellison
Genre: Body Horror, Dehumanization, Dissociation, Gen, Unhappy Ending, experimental writing style for me but it kinda worked, game canon divergent, ngl this ended up feeling like ted's a little bit in love with gorrister ellen and benny :(, planned suicide mention, some things not tagged to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPaperCupCut/pseuds/aPaperCupCut
Summary: The two brothers of AM do not care who goes, or who wants to. Picking randomly, they choose Nimdok - and Ted.Nimdok led them to the chamber where AM had left it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The dog dies at the end

**Author's Note:**

> gonna ask everybody to definitely proceed with caution; there's stuff i left untagged because i wanted to leave certain things unknown until they happen. that said, i don't believe any of it is too dire compared to the game, but i am absolutely open to tagging things if it is necessary to, even if i want to keep things unknown i don't want to cause harm to anybody, so please do let me know!
> 
> in all honesty, if anybody wants to know... while i was drafting a few scenes of this in my head (and dang, ngl, this was a very messy drafting process), i had a stop-cold-laugh-out-loud moment (while i was at work!!!!!) where i realized that this is basically a very clumsy AU of a relatively well known short story which I really love. ten thousand hugs and much love to anybody who guesses what it is; that is, if i keep myself from spoiling it when i post this on tumblr lmao

_ "You – yes, you." _

_ "Wait. He is old, and his age causes him difficulty. Do you not agree that we might send two?" _

_ "Yes… Very well, we have the ability well in hand with AM so occupied. That one will do." _

* * *

The very walls shook with the force of Nimdok's success, but did not crumble. Only the most inconsequential chambers suffered such destruction, but that was of no concern to him or to any of the others. What was of concern to them was their new future, freed from AM and his  _ brothers _ ' cruelty; just as concerning was the continued absence of Nimdok… and the one who had been chosen to accompany him.

At first, of course, barely any of that surfaced in their minds; all of them thought themselves long since emptied of tears, but in the moment the earthquake slowed to stillness, their cages opened seemingly by no one, and yet no hateful voice emerged from the darkness above their heads – they, each of them, grabbed hold of each other, and they cried. Tears of relief; tears of joy. Not yet did any thought of their companions or their tremulous future enter their minds.

By the time that it did, Nimdok had regained his own bearings; no longer human, his mind racing, he took control of the power at his fingertips and he constructed his own plan for this immense, unknown world laid before them. The Earth was completely destroyed, that much was true; but the morphogenic engines were capable of so much more than the simple tortures and horrors AM used them for. And orbiting above their heads, the possibility of no longer being the last, of no longer suffering the endless slog of years spent alone, years spent in stagnation. Oh, yes, Nimdok had opened his eyes, had remembered more than he'd ever wanted to – his cruelty would never be forgiven, but he promised himself that he would move forward with the clarity and compassion AM had unwittingly taught him, the same clarity and compassion that would endlessly torture him for what he'd done. He was condemned, but he would not waste the time he'd been given.

Nimdok, when he revealed himself to the others, spoke at length of these plans, and he asked only that they keep alive for them. Each of them no doubt thought of suicide as their final act – no doubt that they, in the shell-shocked moments before he came to them, had begun planning their own desires out. There was arguing (of course there was), about how Nimdok's decision should have no impact on their own desires, about how long each had longed for that outcome.

But Gorrister, oh, foolhardy, earnest, tough-guy-secretly-sweet-guy Gorrister – well, whatever AM had made him see in that foolish game of metaphors, holograms, and morphogenic constructs, he spoke up. For him, death had always been something he deserved for what he'd done; but he, as he said, had realized that the mistakes of the past were not all his fault (whatever that meant). 

With his promise to Nimdok, the others quickly fell in line; Ellen had never really wanted to die, she just had not seen the point in continuing to live. Pragmatic and cynical, but she set her mouth and squared her shoulders, and her loyalty was well alive. Benny had not cared either way; he had found some measure of calm to him, that once pathetically angry man. He simply nodded, grunting out something about making amends for past mistakes, barely intelligible – and what better way than to agree to the only request Nimdok asked?

And then, Ellen asked the question. The question lurking in their minds – the question Nimdok had quietly hoped to stymy away, but as busy as their minds were, as dismissive and undesirable as they perceived him… They asked where the fifth was.

Nimdok fell into silence, his mind working fast. 

Just listen to it; to the buzz of electronics, acting as neurons in a brain, already many times more massive and complex than his human brain had ever been. Just listen: the cracks, the clicks, the motors running, the firing of dozens of routines and subroutines. Listen to them; it is a private sound. Already slowly fading away into silence.

They – no, it was Ellen, Gorrister listening for any reply, Benny simply watching – asked if, maybe, there was another inside the machine. Another ghost, maybe…?

No, Nimdok told them. There was only him.

Then where was...?

Nimdok thought, and thought, and thought. What was the point of all of that thinking? Why bother? Pointless suffering, an unnecessary pain, with no consequence except for the memory of it – and, in years to come, not even that.

He saw no other choice, because Nimdok wanted as little to do with deceit and lies as he could, in this strange new life of his. Humanity was already draining away; he needed to build certain behaviors, unknown to him before, into his very being, for that moment coming soon where he would no longer recall what it had been like.

Nimdok led them to the chamber where AM had left it.

  
  
  
  


Are you going to… Benny glanced over at it, chewing the thought before he spoke. A new habit for him, formed after Nimdok had healed his tongue and reset his broken jaw. Aren't you going to fix him?

Gorrister had been the only one to approach it, and had done so with the clear look of someone so out of their element that they no longer could perceive danger in the same manner as they should. He'd touched it, yanked his hand back when it quailed under his touch, even cussed and shook his hand when he felt how cold and slimy it was. But his was a quick mind; he peered around its gelatinous, disgusting body, and saw the wires and spikes of metal that had not yet been removed.

What's this? he had said, and had reached over it to grasp at one of the bundles of wires linking it to the wall. It slid out easy, foggy liquid sluicing out as it did so; Gorrister ignored the sounds it made and its half hearted struggling. Nimdok, what–

Those are from AM, Nimdok had said. He moved quickly.

Nobody said anything. Gorrister's face was hidden. He kept at removing the debris, eventually moving all around it and checking it over. Broken glass, bits of metal, those were last minute, sadistic weapons; the wires and cables came out much smoother, clearly from the moment AM caught it and deformed it.

They set up a camp afterward, in that very chamber; all the wires and cables, the button arrays on the walls, the inhospitable chill to the air, none of it enough to dissuade them. Nimdok stayed amongst them, watching them and it. The noises in his head were quieter, and would never again be so loud.

He'd fixed them up, but now that he had done so, none of them could remove their gazes from it, still and unmoving in its corner. Still oozing that awful, pungent liquid from its slowly closing wounds. If there was the signature red of human blood, it was not visible at that moment, so soon after its birth.

I cannot, Nimdok said. He was interrupted before he could explain. All what-do-you-mean-s and we-can't-just-s. He spoke over them. Whatever AM did, it's beyond my abilities to fix, he said. From my calculations, not even he would be able to.

Is… is he  _ aware? _ In there? Benny asked. If he's not–

–He is, Nimdok asserted. I have been able to speak with him, somewhat. It's fading now, so I will no longer be able to hear his replies very soon, but he is able to hear us. He is just unable to communicate the way you and I are doing so.

Ellen had remained silent throughout their discussion; she had yelled, when she had seen it, but had not made a sound since. She did not once look away from it, but she did not once speak, either. Her eyes burned holes into it; they all stared, jumped, fell quiet when it squirmed impulsively, wet, unnatural sounds filling the chamber.

He can hear us, huh, Gorrister had said. He wiped his hands off again and again on his pants, as if he couldn't shake the cold, slick texture from his nerves. He stood up, made his way once more over to it; it was much shorter, even shorter than it had been before, and his shadow loomed over it. It was shaking. Unable to stop shaking.

He'd sighed, looking down at it. Benny emerged behind him; together, they stared down at it. Benny pressed his knuckles to his mouth, renewed features still scar stricken but no longer twisted hideously. Gorrister said, Ted, it'll be ok. It's gonna be ok.

Don't say that, Ellen whispered from the corner. No one acknowledged her.

I am hoping that the lunar colony will have the technology to assist me, Nimdok finally said, breaking the silence. It… it will take time, but better to wait than to never have a chance at all.

Benny nodded. Gorrister just looked away, eyes shadowed.

With that, the discussion was dropped.

  
  
  
  


Three hundred years of waiting. Nimdok had found an assistant in Benny; for all his militant brutality, he had gone on to become an accomplished scientist and researcher in the years after his service. They focused their efforts in every possible way to prepare the Earth for the awakening of their lunar companions. Life would extend easily til then: AM had never hidden the unnatural ways of immortality from them.

As for the elephant in the room… 

For months, it did not move. Gorrister and Benny both came back to the chamber; Gorrister simply to rest beside it, ignoring its sounds and disturbing twitching, always at least once running his rough hand down its flank, a twisted mockery of comfort. Benny simply stared, long and hard; eventually, he would be drawn into discussion and work with Nimdok, and it would fade to the back of his mind. Nimdok only on occasion spoke to it: he was busy, and he was unsure of how to proceed.

Voices rose up in fumes from the hot deck plates. This area was hot from constantly running servos, and the edges of it crinkled and burned, stinking of rot.

Only once did Ellen go back to the chamber. Her shadow stretched, deformed, from her still figure in the mouth of the hallway leading into the room.

She never spoke. She did not enter.

It followed her out.

They, at first, moved frequently, from ramshackle camp to ramshackle camp. It followed them, slowly, agonizingly. Its burnt parts breaking off as it dragged itself, grit sticking to it and every inch of the ground caustic as acid to its still new flesh. A slimy trail left behind it. Thick, ropey strands. Deep pools, deep puddles. It hung around in the dark, at the very edges of their firelight. Its eyes reflecting the dim warmth.

Benny saw it: four years since it followed Ellen out. Ellen screamed. Gorrister cursed. Benny, acting on impulse – took a chunk of rubble, jumped close to it, and brought it down hard into the places its skull should have been. Same as every monster AM sent shambling out of the darkways.

Noise and noise and more noise; Benny bandaged its injury, after. Ellen hid away into her tattered tent and cried. Gorrister disappeared.

They stopped moving frequently. For a time.

  
  
  
  


Ten years in.

Benny had a secret desire to nurse, to heal, to care deeply and utterly. In his spare moments, he devoted time to caring for it – there was no other way to describe it, even as it was unnecessary and a wasted effort. He kept a careful eye to its injuries: chided it, as if it was a clumsy pet or child, when he found more wounds than he had previously. Each time he touched it, it tried to jerk away even as it tried to lean forward. Quaking, it simply soaked in his presence. He liked to talk; about his research, about his partner, about his two daughters. Once, he told it about his time abroad; he fell into silence when he spoke about his separation from his squad. He didn't speak of that time after.

Gorrister came around, on occasion; out of guilt, out of restlessness, it did not matter. Nimdok did not disallow him his comforts; he had whiskey and a pack of cigarettes, and would smoke and drink beside it. He watched its habits, its behaviors; once, he said, Better drop that when you get better. Most of the time, he didn't like to talk at all. All the same, he was comforting; he ran warm, and didn't mind running his hand down the length of it, didn't mind when it eased into slumber beside him.

Ellen… 

For another eighty or some years, things continued as such. Routine was vital. Routine is easily broken.

  
  
  
  


Eighty-nine years in.

A scream. Bright: sudden, violent. It ripped a hole and reflexively cried.

A scrambling of feet, another shriek: no! No, no, no! What is it  _ doing? _

She wouldn't calm down – it was bleeding, messed up – she cried, blood, there's blood everywhere! – Ellen, stood frozen, she was never supposed to  _ see. _

It shriveled back, trying to drag itself away, but more cuts it and it bleeds, sloppily, red smeared across the uneven deck plates. She cried again, hands gesturing, unable to calm; tears streamed down her face. She screamed again when something popped, a wet slopping sound as another part of it sloughed off with ill timing. The fragments of the glass bottle she'd dropped scattering like stars across the floor. Water mixed with blood.

A cacophony, fiasco; it shriveled back, more and more, as first Gorrister came running to her, a distance from the camp but not too far,  _ it screwed up it messed up it was impatient it hurt it didn't want to it was so hungry _ , Benny stumbling into the scene with eyes blown horrifyingly wide. The whites shining in the dark.

Ellen shrieked, it was  _ eating _ it! It was eating–

Ellen, please, Gorrister started, but she couldn't calm down.

I, I was just, he – it – he's  _ dead _ and you won't listen to me! She screamed, then burst into tears. Don't you see what you're doing?  _ Don't you know what you're doing to me? _ She whirled away from him, sprang out of his grip, and fled.

...he was just– Gorrister began to lacklusterly say, not even knowing what he would say, clueless as he was, but she'd already vanished into the murky darkness. He turned back to it, still bleeding and crying on the floor. Oh…  _ jesus… _

It sniffed and whimpered. The small, skeletal form of the rat it'd found lay close by; half digested. Benny approached slowly, his pants soaking up the red blood as he kneeled beside it; he wasn't looking at it as he said, you're supposed to wait. Why didn't you wait?

It sniffled and didn't reply.

  
  
  
  


It just needed to eat, said Benny and Gorrister and Nimdok. It was only doing what it needed to.

But the horror and disgust wouldn't leave her face; why can't Nimdok– he can't because– then– it did not matter. Ellen did not say a word, and her watchful gaze from the firelight ceased entirely. She said all she needed to say. She still wept in the night; it dared not move closer. It dared not cry when the years passed and her grief began to sink into a sea of repulsion. Benny stopped attending to it so much; busy with his work with Nimdok, busy planning and relearning his sharp mind. His eyes were far away and he rarely spoke when he approached it. He said, once, that Nimdok must have been wrong. It mindlessly spends its time, heedless of whatever injuries it accrues; it mindlessly devours the food put before it, uncaring of the content. It gives no indication it hears him. Ellen had covered her face, and he had leaned in, wrapped an arm around her. I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm sorry.

It woke, one hundred and six years since AM, to find the camp empty and bereft. 

It stayed there; waiting.

Gorrister came back; eyes heavy and blue, and did not touch it but did sigh and say, C'mon. It followed him, as fast as it could, as slowly as it could. He never vanished around the corner; he did not speak to it. Benny did not notice its returned presence. Ellen just curled her lip, then hid her weepy eyes.

It became a repeated affair: it would awake, alone. And alone it would wait; until Gorrister came back for it again. Never touching it, but that lost its importance. His gaze and presence and care were enough.

A whispering came up, once more, from the core of the Earth. Deep below them. Senseless things. Chittering, garbling things. Soft fever-warm things from a mind warped by one hundred and fifty years. Familiar, and that hurt, and that warmed and cooled and comforted, even as Gorrister kept walking. Even as he did not look back or stop. Listen. Listen. It is a very private thing. 

Something from somewhere from someone. It's never coming back.

Gorrister did not come back. It followed as best as it could, as they kept moving and Gorrister disappeared into the corners of solitude and lost every touch of light freedom had lit in his eyes.

  
  
  
  


It was so quiet. 

How much time had passed?

The whispers that cut deep into it never said, simply jeered. Nimdok did not say; he murmured to it, dismissive, concerned. Resigned. He said to wait. His words stretched over years: he did not speak to it all that often.

It rarely approached the camp. The gazes lept to it, or never realized its return – it penetrated all the same. It stayed away. For the most part.

Moving was difficult, and slow, but it had become a proficient tracker, following their footsteps as they drifted closer to the surface. The earth above, it seemed, had begun to recuperate in an accelerated manner; underground rivers cropped up, small plants stubbornly beginning to grow despite the lack of natural light. Mushrooms were aplenty in certain moist, dank corners; their fumigations kept the reviving insect life well at bay. The same could not be said for its grotesque, misshapen body; over the years, scars and open, unhealing wounds had littered its flesh, drawing mosquitoes and flies alike to the ample festering breeding ground of its body. Flies hummed around its head, adding to the stench that clung to it ever since Benny stopped caring for it, and pockets of larvae eggs and maggot filled pustules carved angry streaks at the swell of its belly. Its gelatinous body lumpy, disformed, and hideous.

It was no wonder no one could bear to look at it any longer. It was no wonder that it, once again, was much further away from them; they had left once more.

It left slimy, filthy trails behind it. It gurgled, panted squelchingly, the physical effort of movement exhausting even as hunger pangs cramped its several stomachs and mindless pain crept into the blank spots of its mind.

They were gone; how long had it been…? It had not moved in some time. The whispers giggled. The busted wiring lining the corridor sparked, shocking its right side. It hardly made a sound.

A light ahead: sunlight. Sunlight…

They had gone to the surface before. It had never followed. It knew, from the smile on Ellen's face… the first smile…

The passageway slanted up at an almost punishingly steep angle. Every moment counted. It moved as fast as it could. Where had they gone?

Finally, out, into the air, into the air that burned and forced it to shake and tremour uncontrollably. The light blinded it; when its lidless eyes stopped aching, it was stunned still by the blue stretch of sky, puffs of white clouds calmly drifting past on a gentle breeze… the fingers of long grasses tickled its skin, and it moved closer, feeling the strands fold beneath it, feeling the wet soil beneath it.

It stood still, still in the shadow of the mouth of the cave. Out of the belly. It was a parasite: fungal, intestinal, did not matter. It was exposed. It was cold, freezing already – its form shrinking, evaporating, pain like boiling streaming inside it even as it stared out into the world. Unreal. Nimdok and Benny, speaking of things that would never be, fantastical dreams.

But it was here–! Here–!

If– 

_ Maybe–! _

That was when it saw, down the sloping hill, the machine kicking up dust and debris as it landed. With no sound accompanying it for its hearing rang in the dull deafness of overstimulation –

A helicopter, bastardized, but recognizable.

And approaching it quickly, clothes billowing in the winds of its blades, there they were.

Gorrister, moving with driven purpose, striding – Benny beside Ellen, loping on gentle legs – and Ellen, lovely Ellen, her hands upraised and shouting, speaking for them all as she always tried to do.

It remained, staring, as without waiting, without looking back, Gorrister climbed into the cabin, Benny pausing to speak but only for a moment before joining him and the strangers within. Ellen spoke with gesturing hands, several people climbing out. Sweat stood out on her brow; her clothes filthy.

She made to climb in. That was when it spread the remnants of its jaw as best as it could –

And screamed.

It could not read their gazes when they turned and looked at it. Ellen, Gorrister, Benny; Nimdok, the croaking of a protest, to wait–

The strangers, in their heavy blue uniforms, pulled out their guns, frizzling with electricity, and everything went black.

  
  
  
  


"I was hopeful," Ellen is saying, eyes downcast. "I… I just wanted…"

"It's ok," Benny murmurs. He holds her hand; closes his eyes, and when he presses his head against hers she bows, face crumpling, tears pearling. "It's ok, Ellen. It's over now."

The doctor, scientist, whatever she may be – she stands with serious solemnity, white coat bright. The entire station hums around them. This small room, holding the three last humans whom AM kept to torture among the rest, the only three of the five… and beyond this room, there is another; kept seperate, behind a pane of glass, confined within an obscure machine. Scientists and doctors doing as Nimdok had said they would. Had hoped.

Had  _ lied. _

"So…" Gorrister shuts his eyes as well. Grits his teeth, wipes furiously at his eyes. Doesn't continue.

"I'm sorry."

No one looks at her; is this a short journey? Is this a long journey? Is the destination within sight?

They talk. Argue. For all their years spent together, in pain together, in tears together, they still do not know each other as deeply as they wish to. Gorrister wants, without speaking, and doesn't want to say it because he hates himself, still, and struggles to cope. He's always run away from guilt; the guilt of a loveless marriage, the guilt of a divorce, the guilt of second-hand murder. He's not guilty, but he would rather he was. Running away was an easy option. 

Benny wants it to be over. It hurts too much to linger. Smart, that man, with a hidden kindness that had rotted at the root but he healed it, he healed it with forward movement. The past is gone; let it be gone.

Ellen doesn't want any of it. She's faultless for that, blameless, undeserving of the grief she took into herself. She saw right away what it was. She knew exactly what to call it.

Nimdok isn't here. If he ever was.

They enter the enclosed room; the other doctors depart, except for one. Standing at the ready, with an IV drip and a syringe. One, two. It knows, already. Maybe it always did.

"I'm sorry," the scientist repeats. She's someone who's given this news before. She's ragged more from recently awakening from cryostasis than because of this. She does not know, and does not care. "As far as we can detect, your… friend… was wrong. Even if there was something we could do, there's nothing there. I'm sorry."

Her words ring hollow.

"We can keep him here," she offers, tonelessly. "But euthanasia would be the humane choice."

Gorrister makes a pained, wordless sound, as if in protest.

"It would be kind," Benny murmurs.

"It would be kind," she repeats, as if he asked a question. "Painless. From our analysis, he is in a persistent, possibly permanent, vegetive state. If he is at all aware, he is in pain."

She turns and looks at the machine; inside, held haphazardly in the opened basket, there I lie, large enough that the small room feels cramped. Not still; it looks around the room.

Everything hurts.  _ Everything hurts. _

My heart is pounding. It thought – doesn't matter – it looks, and frantically twists its malformed head, entire skull full of panic. It can't struggle. The restraints hold me fast. It can only lie there, helpless, as she looks over it dismissively. Its thoughts are jumbled, all wordless, as she turns back to them.

It has been awake for roughly forty minutes. In that time, several people poked and prodded, but not much else. Blood drawn, cell samples taken, no speaking. It is a waste of precious resources.

_ I'm a waste. I'm a waste. _

"It is your call. It would be kind."

I look out, lungs struggling around this immense panic, drowning me. Hearing, it swears,  _ I _ swear, hearing high keyed laughter from someone from somewhere far, far away.

Benny meets my gaze.  _ Please, I'm sorry, I'll listen to you, I'll do what you say,  _ but he's agreeing wordlessly, eyes distant.

Gorrister is out the door before I can register it.  _ Please, please, please don't leave me, _ but he's already gone.

_ Please, please, I don't want to die, I don't want to die. Please. _

_ I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. _

Ellen won't look at me, hiding her tears as she nods.


End file.
